


Love as Blood

by Moonspite



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Gen, Male Masturbation, gore porn, hybristophilia heaven, hybristophilia hellhole if that's not your thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonspite/pseuds/Moonspite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimbley has a lot of fond memories about the Ishbalan Extermination campaign. Absolutely disgusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love as Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to write about Kimbley jacking off to violence. Just as a warning, though, this is really fucked and unsexy. It just honestly sounds like something Kimbley would do so I wrote it.

It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, Kimbley was still in prison. It was even harder to believe that he'd managed to escape from certain death and to be given another chance at freedom. In spite of his name, Greed had been a generous man, taking it upon himself to abscond with a small group of chimeras and one greasy-looking inmate. One very grateful, very excited, very _happy_  inmate. The cuffs were off and now, Kimbley was a free man. He would make sure it stayed that way if it was the last thing he did.

Prison had not been kind to him. He had been stocky -- no Armstrong of course, but no tooth pick, either -- before he was sentenced. Nowadays, he was certain someone could play his ribs like a xylophone and that he could have slid through the bars of a jail cell like a sheet of paper. Thanks to prison, he was all jutting angles and sunken eyes and oily skin. He could have sworn he'd seen some kind of insect's eggs fall out of his hair when he shook his head one time. Zolf J Kimbley was long overdue for a shave and a shower by the time he'd seen the Red Water. Now, at the Devil's Nest, Greed's home base, he was afforded such a luxury and scrubbed himself until he his skin was red and raw.

The Devil's Nest was a clean slate. Kimbley could start over so long as he could behave and mind Greed's rules. Was there anyone aside from his gang who even knew Kimbley was _alive_? If the world thought he was dead, then he could do as he pleased. Finally, after seven years, Kimbley had use of his hands again. 

He lay in bed one night, unable to sleep despite how hard he'd worked that day. The sheets were pulled around his emaciated form, hot and smooth. The sensation brought forth memories of the warmth of the Ishbalan sun and his mind began to wander. If the Devil's Nest was a new friend, then Ishbal was an old lover.

Explosions blossomed from primitive buildings like tiger lilies, spraying fire and heavy debris on whatever civilians were unlucky enough to be caught under it. Heat. He could see someone's limbs jutting out from under the blasted rock. An arm reaching out, laying limp in a pool of blood soup. A stray leg cut off at the knee. Kimbley felt himself begin to salivate, pulse hammering in his neck like a bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. His lips parted and his right hand slipped beneath the hem of his pants, heading to his groin.

Lightly, Kimbley's fingers were wrapped around his cock. He was in Ishbal again. There was the wet sound of guts spilling out onto the sand, the owner of that body staring down in shock that his belly was split open, mouth agape. The poor man's stomach was nearly hollowed out like a lobster. Kimbley's pants were halfway down his knees when he was thrusting his cock into his victim's wound, hands gripping the other man's trembling body. The mad bomber was in _heaven_. His fingers pumped and pulled at his stiff cock as he began to rut into his hand. The friction was almost painful at this point, his skin nothing like the slick insides of the man he had just disemboweled.

The victim's neck was exposed, the smooth contours of his throat an open invitation to his killer. Without a second thought, Kimbley tore into it like beast devouring his prey, teeth sinking into the tender skin and tearing it open, blood filling his mouth. The smell was so thick.

Kimbley groaned, back arching against the bed. The pad of his thumb ran over the sensitive head of his cock, brushing away a generous amount of precome forming there. Toenails raking along the bed, his thighs quivered as he thrust again and again into his hand. He swore under his breath as the image of the man he had killed filled his vision. Blood spilled down his front and onto the hot desert sand while his poor victim's head hung limply from his neck, eyes glazed over with pain. He laid against Kimbley like a ragdoll. 

Knowing that he'd snuffed the life from this man, the mad bomber felt a rush of heat from his own belly. A loud groan fell from his lips as hot, thick come splattered against his stomach, dirtying his bed sheets.

Kimbley could visit Ishbal whenever it pleased him. 


End file.
